Page 40 of Run Game
He’s definitely getting his dick sucked tonight.
As I overlook the club below, a strong set of hands grabs onto my waist from behind. I feel Dalton’s body press against mine as he dances, following the rhythm he’s moving to. He uses his fingers to gently push my long hair to one side, exposing my neck. He presses his open lips tomy already heated flesh, and when his tongue darts out for a taste, I let out an audible moan. But the music is so loud, it may as well be a secret between us.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he says into my ear, making goosebumps rise along my skin. “And this tight little body of yours makes my dick so hard.” He grinds his erection into my ass, showing me that he’s not lying. I bring my hands up, reaching behind me and wrapping them around the back of his neck, desperately trying to keep him pressed against me. His fingertips dig into my hips as I grind right back into him, loving the way his length feels through our clothes. It all feels so forbidden, but from the outside, we’re just another couple dancing to the electronic music beating through the speakers.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see our server approaching. I turn, trying to move away from Dalton, but he snakes his arms around me, pulling me back in front of him. I assume he’s using me as a shield, considering the hard cock and tight pants, but it’s fine because the last thing I want to do is punch this poor girl in the throat for looking at his dick.
“Can I get you some drinks to start off with?” she asks, smiling brightly.
Dalton speaks before I get the chance. “I’ll take a whiskey, neat. And my wife will have a vodka cranberry. Right, baby?” he says, looking down at me from above my shoulder.
“Y-yeah,” I stutter.
She tells us she’ll be back with our drinks before taking off toward the bar. I turn to Dalton. “How did you know what I like?” Other than the night at Blaze and Mads’ house with the wine, I haven’t really drunk much here. And I only had a chance to drink one glass of champagneand Dalton’s beer that I took from him in Vegas. But when I’m out, I strictly go with vodka cranberries.
The corners of his mouth tip up. “I already told you. I know everything about you. Some I’ve learned from listening and watching. Everything else was dragged out of Mads, mostly against her will. You had me so intrigued right from the second I laid eyes on you. Even if I never saw you again, I still needed to know every detail.”
I try to stop my eyes from welling up. I’ve been so hardened by life that I can usually will myself not to cry in front of anyone. I don’t like to look weak or vulnerable, but I know he doesn’t see me that way. He sees me as someone who is strong and determined. Someone who feels emotions and deserves to be cared for. And if I didn’t know it before, at least somewhere in the corner of my brain, I do now. I’m in love with Dalton Davis. As hard as I’ve tried not to let myself fall, it was always going to happen.
“I have something for you,” he whispers into my ear as he reaches into his pocket. I look down to see what he’s holding, but it’s too dark up here. So, when he takes my left hand and slides a thin platinum band onto my ring finger, I’m caught off guard. As I look closer, I realize it’s the same one he gave me in Vegas after we said our vows. My stomach does somersaults as I stare at it, glad to have it back, but then I’m hit with a pang of sadness when I remember that my beautiful engagement ring is long gone. It’s probably on the finger of some random woman who will never love it the way I did. I hope whoever gave it to her treats her the way Dalton treats me.
I look up, my eyes still brimming with unshed tears. When I blink and one escapes, stopping when it hits thelace of my mask, he pulls me into a tight hug before leaning back to look at me.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t cry. I just,” he pauses, furrowing his brows, “couldn’t let it go.”
I smile, cupping his cheeks before stretching up onto my toes to kiss him. “Thank you,” I say. “Did you keep yours, too?”
He grins, holding up his left hand to show me the thick band sitting on his finger. We look like a real-life married couple. I mean, technically we are.
“Let’s go down there,” I say, nodding my head toward the first floor.
His eyes go wide. “Dia, I’m built like a professional football player. And this mask only covers half of my face. There’s a good chance people could recognize me and we’re both wearing our rings.” As much as I appreciate him for respecting my wishes, I kind of don’t really care right now.
I shrug my shoulders, knowing exactly how to get him to go downstairs with me. “Okay. Well, you can stay here. I’ll go find someone else to dance with.” I turn to walk away, but I don’t get far before he brings a heavy arm around my waist, stopping me. I can feel the heat of his breath against the shell of my ear. “You even think about doing that and I’ll bend you over that railing and show this whole club how wet your cunt gets when I spank you,” he growls. I keep a straight face, smiling on the inside because that worked like a charm. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice shrouded in jealousy and irritation. Just his tone makes my blood run hot with arousal. He takes my hand, leading me back down the walkway to the stairs. We’ve all but forgotten about our drinks, although I’m sure the server will leave them at our table.
When we hit the bottom floor, Dalton drops my hand, only to wrap a protective arm around me from behind as we weave through the throng of people until we reach the edge of the dance floor. The music vibrates through my body, starting at my feet and making its way to the tips of my fingers as we move to the beat. He spins me to face him, his hands ghosting down my sides before he reaches around and grips my ass. We’re pressed together so tightly, that I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
Normally, that feeling alone would make me want to back away. Move on and go find another faceless body to grind against until I start to feel anything other than the meaningless urge to scratch an itch. But with Dalton, I’m starting to feel exhilarated when I think of how things are between us. While I still can’t bring myself to completely surrender to this marriage forever, I’m more than willing to embrace it until our time together is up. He’s shown me what it’s like to be wanted, cherished, and adored. All things I never thought I’d feel, yet he’s given them so openly. He deserves all of that, and up until now, I’ve been scared to give it.
I look up at him, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Take me home.”
TWENTY-SIX
DALTON
We barely makeit through the door of my apartment before Dia is clawing at my clothes. Her kisses are desperate and wild as she starts undoing the buttons of my shirt. She’s fumbling, blinded by her own arousal as she struggles. I should help her, but I’m having way too much fun watching my wife as she finally fucking snaps in front of me.
“Fuck it,” she says against my lips. “You’re rich anyway.”
Before I can even ask what she means, she curls her fingers around the edges of the placket, yanking as hard as she can. Buttons go flying in every direction as she exposes my muscled torso. She sighs in relief as she shoves my shirt over my shoulders, making it drop to the floor behind me. I walk backwards, further into the living room, while she follows. I only stop when I feel the back of the couch hit my ass.
I stand there as she stares at me for a moment, growing cockier by the second at how needy she is right now. I’mtempted to ask her what changed tonight, but I don’t want her to stop. So, I put that on the back burner while she tears wildly at my dress pants. My dick is rock hard, threatening to bust through the zipper, and she hasn’t even touched it yet.
“It helps if you undo the beltbeforeyou try to unbutton the pants,” I tease. It’s like her brain has stopped working completely. I’ve never seen Dia like this. Not even on our wedding night when we thought we only had a handful of hours together. She looks up at me, narrowing her eyes as she regroups, taking a shaky breath before reaching for the buckle of my belt. She manages to tamp down her desperation long enough to undo it, along with my pants.
Grabbing under her chin with one hand, I lean down, kissing her passionately as I reach behind her body and lower the zipper of her form-fitting, strapless dress. I feel her shiver, but I don’t think it’s from the temperature in the room. I pull back, watching the material as it falls to the floor, pooling around her ankles. She’s braless, standing in front of me in just a piece of black lace that could barely pass as a pair of panties.
Fuuuuuck. I’m the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
